


A Decent Replacement

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_nextgen_fest, Intergluteal Sex, M/M, Praise Kink, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: There’s not enough rooms at the Burrow with everyone crowding in for Victoire’s wedding, so James and Scorpius are going to have to share. Which would be fine, if that didn’t also mean sharing one bed.





	A Decent Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Next Gen Fest, and originally posted here on [livejournal](https://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/114937.html).
> 
>  **Additional Warnings:** The sexual content occurs while other people (Bill and Charlie) are asleep in the room.

“I’m really sorry,” Albus is saying, his hand ruffling through his own hair as he looks to Scorpius, “but there’s a last-minute emergency with the dresses, and Victoire’s been panicking, and Aunt Fleur kicked Uncle Bill out, and now she says that if I don’t stay and hel—”

“It’s fine,” Scorpius cuts in, his hand resting on Al’s upper arm to get him to calm down. “I’ll just share with someone else. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, well, Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie are taking the bed I was meant to have, so it looks like you’ll have to share with—”

“Me!” James calls out, jogging toward them from the Burrow’s kitchen. He throws his arm around Albus’ shoulders, ignoring the way his younger brother ducks to get away, and grins at Scorpius. “I’m a blanket hog. Hope you don’t mind, don’t really care if you do.”

He’s almost laughing, his tone teasing the way it always is with Scorpius. Scorpius sighs, but he’s long since grown used to James’ antics, so it’s more fond exasperation than it is genuine annoyance.

“As long as you don’t snore.”

“Never,” James tells him, looking affronted, and Albus snorts.

“You both snore,” he says. “Louder than Lily’s f—”

_“ALBUS!”_

They all jump slightly at Fleur’s voice, loud and shrill in the Burrow’s garden. Al grimaces before offering Scorpius an apologetic look.

“Gotta go,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

Scorpius waves goodbye as Albus disappears through the door, out to wherever Fleur is, and then it’s just the two of them standing in the main room of the Burrow.

“I’d hate to be him,” James says. “Bad enough that we have to help set up the tent, but _dress duty?_ No thanks.”

“At least it’s not the gnomes again,” Scorpius offers. He’s only been to the Burrow a few times—big holiday gatherings, family events Al had asked him to attend—but the Gnomes Incident, as they’d come to call it, sticks out in his memory. His hand had been bandaged for a week.

“Nah, that was George and Charlie,” James tells him. “Did a crappy job, mind you, so they’ll still be out there.”

“Wonderful.”

“Mm. Mum yelled at them for it, but, you know. Not enough time to do it again.”

Scorpius shakes his head. As much as he’s involved with the Potter-Weasley clan, he’s never been able to grasp the idea of such a large family. Everything at home always ran so smoothly, so formally. He can only imagine the horror on his grandmother’s face if she discovered _gnomes_ at a wedding.

James starts toward the Burrow’s stairs, and Scorpius follows, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “Is everyone else asleep?”

He’d only flooed in after dinner, and so he’s got no idea about most of the wedding preparation. The first thing he’d seen was Charlie Weasley with a mouth full of frosting, ducking behind Bill and George as he tried not to get hit by his mother’s rolled up newspaper.

“Mostly. Nan yelled at us to sleep early. Says there’s too much to do in the morning.” James jumps off toward the room Scorpius usually stays in, and Scorpius follows him, nodding hello to Hugo when they pass. “I’m knackered, though. Me and Lily spent three hours sorting flowers. _Flowers._ They all look the bloody same!”

 _They don’t_ , Scorpius wants to say, but James has never been one to care for plants, so he lets it slide. Chooses instead to silently follow him into the room they’ll be sharing. There are two double beds taking up most of the floor space, but no one else is in the room yet.

“Now I know you’d prefer sharing with Al,” James says, sending him a suggestive look, “but I’m sure I’ll be a decent replacement. We can even snog if you want.”

“For the last time,” Scorpius starts, “Albus and I aren’t—”

 _“—dating,”_ James finishes with him. “Yeah, yeah, _I know.”_

He winks at Scorpius, smiling again, and Scorpius just sighs. It’s an age-old argument, and he knows James is more playful than anything else.

“You know where everything is,” James continues, pulling his shirt off with one swift movement and letting it drop to the floor. He kicks his shoes off next, his jeans following shortly after, and all Scorpius can do is stand there and stare at the lean body.

“Um…” he starts, suddenly lost for words as he watches James crawl under the covers with just his underwear on.

“What? Oh.” James looks down at his bare body and shrugs. “It’s how I sleep.”

“Right.”

“Just be glad I kept the underwear on,” James says, winking again. He laughs as Scorpius shakes his head, and Scorpius struggles not to do the same.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re a prude!” James calls after him, watching as he steps toward the bathroom to change.

By the time he returns to the room, dressed appropriately in a full set of pyjamas, James is already almost asleep. He mumbles something unintelligible as Scorpius slides under the covers, but rolls over and starts snoring before Scorpius can ask him to repeat it.

Scorpius supposes he’ll say it again tomorrow if it’s important, so he lets it go and settles down on his side of the bed. In the dark, he lets the steady rise and fall of James’ chest lull him to sleep.

***

Scorpius wakes in the early morning. The sun is barely up, the sky outside a navy-blue with scatterings of pinks and oranges. Everyone else is still asleep, the room filled with light snores from Bill and Charlie’s bed. Behind him, Scorpius can hear James’ deep breathing, can almost feel the rise and fall of his chest.

They’re closer, now, than they had been the night before. James is pressed to his side, one of his legs intertwined with Scorpius’, keeping him there, and it would be fine, really, only Scorpius had woken from dreams filled with lean bodies and slick fingers and more than a little snogging, and his body has reacted in a way expected of an eighteen-year-old boy, and now _he can’t move._

He tries to. Tries to shift out from under James’ hold, tries to ease the ache of his cock, tries to will his arousal away, but his attempts are unsuccessful. All he manages to do is squirm enough to make James shift against him, to wake him enough that he can ask a quiet _wha…?_ Before shifting again, and then—

The first touch is an accident, but it makes Scorpius’ breath hitch. He tries to muffle it, tries to press his lips together so James doesn’t hear, but it’s too late. The soft sound is loud in the otherwise quiet room, and Scorpius can feel James freeze behind him, can feel an arm slowly worm its way around his torso.

“Well, well, well,” James murmurs. His voice is low and hoarse with sleep, but he sounds more awake now. More alert. He presses closer still, his breath warm where it ghosts across the back of Scorpius’ neck, and Scorpius has to bite his tongue to keep quiet when a hand slides up over his hip and settles on his abdomen. “What do we have here?”

James’ lips press against his skin when he talks, the flesh warm and wet against Scorpius’ neck. Scorpius doesn’t dare move a muscle as the hand travels lower, two fingers hooking in the waistband of his trousers.

 _This can’t be happening,_ he thinks. It just can’t be. Bad enough to be in bed with a Potter, but one of the many who made it to Gryffindor? Scorpius is certain his dad will kill him. Or, at the very least, glare a lot.

“You could’ve asked or something,” James says in his ear, his hand edging lower. “I would’ve said yes.”

His hand settles on Scorpius’ erection over the fabric of his underwear, his palm pressing down with a light pressure, and all Scorpius can think is _oh._ It takes all of his strength not to buck up, not to press back into the warmth of James’ hand.

James nuzzles his chin in the crook of Scorpius’ shoulder, his hair tickling the skin, and Scorpius gasps at the quick press of lips against his neck. “Don’t be shy now,” James mumbles, pressing his hips to Scorpius’ arse. He presses another kiss as Scorpius gasps, his mouth drawn in a sleepy grin when Scorpius finally presses back against him. “That’s it…”

Scorpius whimpers quietly, leaning against James’ solid chest. “We can’t…” he starts, but the words fade to another hitch of breath as James dips his fingers beneath the waistline of his underwear and curls his hand around Scorpius’ cock.

“Sure we can,” he says, working his hand slowly. “We _are.”_

Scorpius doesn’t say nothing—can’t say anything—as James sets a steady rhythm, his hand and his hips working in perfect unison. He can feel the thrill, the arousal bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and he knows that the fact that James is Albus’ brother, or the fact that two of Albus’ uncles are in the room should make him want to stop, but it doesn’t. It just urges him on. Makes him want more.

He bites his lip as a groan threatens to spill, and lets James manoeuvre him onto his stomach, lets James move his body to a position that’s more comfortable.

“Here,” he’s saying, “why don’t we…”

He trails off, but then Scorpius feels James push his trousers out of the way, his body following Scorpius’. Scorpius gasps at the press of a cock, hot and hard where it grinds against his arse through the thin fabric of James’ underwear, and James reaches a hand up to cover his mouth.

“Quiet,” he hisses, breath hot against Scorpius’ cheek. “You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

Scorpius shakes his head, and James kisses his jaw, drags his hips across Scorpius’ arse a second time.

“Good boy,” he whispers, not missing the shiver that runs down Scorpius’ spine. “Be quiet, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Scorpius nods desperately, biting his lip to stifle another moan as James pushes his own shorts down and presses the tip of his cock to Scorpius’ back. He buries his head in the pillow, listens as James spits in his hand and slicks his cock before sliding it between Scorpius’ cheeks, hot and thick and—

“Shh,” James soothes, rocking his hips up softly.

Scorpius is whimpering into the mattress, his body on fire as an urgent need courses through his veins. The head of James’ prick presses against his rim with every rock of his hips, and Scorpius can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to have him inside, can’t help but wonder how much the stretch would burn. They’ve not got the time nor the resources to try it right this second, but Scorpius is certain it’d be just as good as what they’re doing now.

“You like that?” James asks, his mouth right above Scorpius’ ear. His voice is still low and hoarse, but it’s with arousal, now. With _want._

Scorpius nods again, his fingers curled around the edge of the mattress. He tries to match James’ movements, but the angle is odd and his body is so rigid with desperation that he can do little more than lie there and take it. James doesn’t mind, though. He seems to get off on it—seems to like the small keening noises that Scorpius can’t stop, seems to enjoy the way his body vibrates, the way he reacts to every touch, no matter how minor.

He kisses down Scorpius’ jaw, his neck. Holds the lobe of his ear between his teeth. “One day,” he pants, “I’ll let you be as loud as you want.”

It’s said like a promise, and part of Scorpius knows it is. It only makes him more excited.

A hand cups the back of his head, the fingers threading through soft blonde locks, and Scorpius shuts his eyes as James presses his face against the pillow. The bed squeaks quietly with every rock of James’ body, but the snores from the other side of the room continue.

James’ cock continues to rock against his arse, the head sliding between his cheeks and smearing precome over him, and when James leans down, when he whispers into Scorpius’ ear and tells him how good it feels, how good he’s doing—Scorpius can’t hold on any longer. He comes with a cry that’s muffled by the mattress, his teeth clamping down to keep quiet, and James continues to rock his hips as Scorpius spoils the sheets, his come leaving a wet spot below his body.

Above him, James slides his hands to Scorpius’ arse, his large fingers splaying out across either cheek. He squeezes, and Scorpius can imagine how red his skin goes, knows he’s been known to bruise like a peach. James offers a few more erratic thrusts, and then Scorpius can feel him spill across his arse, can feel his come coat his skin, can feel is drip down between cheeks. A hand rubs it into the flesh, the fingertips working in slow, circular motions, and Scorpius lets out a soft sound that’s halfway between a gasp and a whimper.

James collapses back onto the bed, breathing heavily. They both glance toward the other end of the room, but Bill and Charlie are still fast asleep, so they settle back against the mattress, James curling up against Scorpius’ side. Scorpius turns so they’re face to face, and James gives him a lazy grin before closing the distance between them and pressing their mouths together. It’s slow—tender, almost—and Scorpius can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Think we’ll need the first shower,” James says. “Don’t you?”

Rather than answer, Scorpius laughs, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a snort.


End file.
